


The Stars Look Very Different Today

by greyscare



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (in terms of BLI), DO N O T BIND WITH ACE BANDAGES, DONT BIND WITH ACE BANDAGES, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Other, Transphobia, this is really gay sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 13:52:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscare/pseuds/greyscare
Summary: “The name’s Vaya. What do they call you?”
“I don’t got anybody to call me anything. I'm Vamos.”
“Vamos. Isn't that Spanish or somethin’?” Vaya leaned over Vamos to get a closer look at the cut on their shoulder. “Take off your jacket.”
“Fuck if I know,” Vamos groaned, shrugging off their leathers. “They didn't teach us that shit in school."





	

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a reeeaaaally long time coming. I have an unhealthy interest in vaya and vamos from the killjoys comic...enjoy my internalized suffering in the form of a hulking fic.
> 
> special thanks to my best friend and my beta mel (starrymellie)!! thanks for all the gay insight

They were in Zone 7, they guessed, judging by all the big buildings. Most of them were still standing, though abandoned, save for cats, raccoons and, as of tonight, Vaya.

Vaya rooted through their bag and found the half-full book of matches that they had copped from another runner earlier that day by trading their great-grandmother’s wedding ring. Considering they’d never known their great-grandmother, Vaya thought it was a steal. The runner had been livid and confused, demanding he know why Vaya was just giving something seeming of that much value away for a half book of matches. Was it a fake gem? Vaya just shrugged and told the man that they really needed those matches. They had learned early on that value was relative.

Vaya’s father was a junkie, and her mother was dead. Since the extinguishing of the Massive Fires of 2012, when the Analog Wars first broke out, Vaya learned that she had to adapt to things very quickly. It was the death of her mother in 2018 that really got the ball rolling. By eight years old, Vaya was a happy girl; she loved to play with Barbies, and occasionally enjoyed setting one or two on fire. In fact, that's exactly what she was doing when her grandmother bustled out into the backyard to herd her into the living room, where she would make Vaya regret ever arguing with her mother.

Vaya took her mother’s death hard, like any child would. For as long as she could remember, her grandmother had always told Vaya that her mother had been one of the most rebellious, devoted fighters in the Analog Wars, and Vaya wasn't sure what war truly meant until her mother was dead.

Now, holding tightly onto the small book of matches, Vaya vaguely recognized that they knew the value of war.

\--------------------

Vincent had a problem with shaking.

It wasn't recognized as a problem right away, of course, but over the years, his mom grew to resent him for it. She always talked about how much Vincent embarrassed her at social gatherings and events. Vincent wondered why she even brought him along in the first place.

His mother refused to take him to see a doctor, arguing that Vincent “obviously only acts this way for attention!”, and his father was always busy working in order to maintain their perfect upper-class lifestyle.

Over the years, Vincent eventually grew out of his unfortunate ailment. Playing football and hockey seemed to be all the therapy he needed, or so insisted his father. By the time he was eleven years old, Vincent’s uncontrollable shake only bared its teeth when Vincent was nervous or scared.

Vincent was thirteen when he first put on makeup. It was an accident, really, or at least that's what he'd told himself.

He was fresh out of the shower, rooting around the bathroom drawers for a comb when he came across a tube of his mother’s lipstick. He froze, then picked it up very slowly as he thought. His father was at a business meeting, his mother out shopping with some friends. He decided that he would try something new; his mother was always badgering him about that. Anyway, he was curious. It was okay to be curious, right?

Vincent was shaking, of course; he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, so loud, he thought, that he wouldn't be able to hear a freight train. That was probably why he didn't hear the front door open.

Vincent peered into the mirror and coated his lips in scarlet as best he could. He found himself smiling; he thought he looked beautiful, which was a thought he'd never remembered having about himself. “Shiny,” he'd whispered.

Vincent had since stopped shaking, but his body regenerated the tic with animosity when his father barreled into the bathroom and hit Vincent in the face.

\--------------------

In the year 2012, when Vaya was two years old, after the fall of the United Federation of Allied Territories, Better Living Industries took over.

Now, five years later, according to the law, every man, woman and child over the age of 5 years old had to take these little white pills every day. Vaya thought it was pointless, a waste of time. Also, she thought the pills tasted like eggs. Disgusting.

As Vaya watched her mother grimace and throw her and Vaya’s daily doses into the garbage disposal, she idly wondered what it would be like if she didn’t have to attend school. It didn’t really matter to Vaya if she went to school or not, but apparently it mattered to her mother.

“You’ve just got to go, Vaya. It’s non-negotiable.” Her mother sighed and propped her head on her fist at the kitchen table, and Vaya thought she looked tired. “It will never be over, will it?” She whispered, more to herself than anyone. 

Vaya wasn’t sure what that meant, but she’d go to school in the required uniform, sit through her boring classes, deal with the boys and girls who stole her backpack and chucked it in the dumpster. She’d do it all for her mother, so long as she stopped looking so sad. Vaya decided in that moment that she’d even take the eggy white pills, if her mother ever asked her to.

Her mother never did.

Vaya took a post-it note from the fridge, drew a flower on it, stuck it to the table in front of her mother, and left for her first day of second grade without a word.

\--------------------

Before Better Living Industries leveled California and took the place over, before Battery City became the new American epicenter, people thought that living in the desert was an unsustainable standard of life. Now, for anyone whose brains aren't melted to mush, it's just a fact.

Vaya didn't have a favorite food, but they'd settled for cans of Power Pup dog food. They’d forgotten the taste of macaroni and cheese, and there wasn't much variety in the desert. So, naturally, macaroni was what they were thinking about when they were stormed.

“Fuck, fuck,” Vaya scooped all of their shit into their bag (including the open can of Power Pup, fuck) and dove behind their bike just in time for the first shots to whiz by.

Vaya buzzed a prayer to the Witch, hoping that the prelim agents hadn't already planted bombs in the area. Vaya flipped the safety off on the ray gun and concentrated, trying not to dry heave in fear at the constant whirr of gunshots flying past their bike. They twisted around and peeked over the seat, and they could vaguely make out the people -or things, more like- with the all-white suits and the black tops. They would be able to see more of the enemy (even though Vaya was sure they knew who it was) if it weren't for the goddamned sun in their eyes. Stupid fucking star.

They glanced to the side and established that they were a stone's throw away from an abandoned gas station. If there were bombs, Vaya really hoped that all of the gas had disintegrated, or evaporated, or whatever the fuck gas did, Vaya didn't fucking know. They were too busy shitting their pants, because they were all alone and being shot at by motherfucking Dracs.

They hadn't remembered seeing anyone in the abandoned station when they'd gone in to look around earlier, and they'd been sitting outside, watching vigilantly the entire time since (well, except for the time they’d spent focused on cooking dog food). Apparently, Vaya's post was all for naught, thanks to the fucking Power Pup. The good news, they figured, was that there were no other runners around, which meant that this probably wasn't a planned raid. Vaya was glad about that. After the previous blast they'd been caught in, they were completely deaf in their left ear for a week. As a result, Vaya still loses their hearing every once in awhile. You could whisper right into that motherfucker, and Vaya wouldn't hear a thing.

Vaya fired blindly at the Dracs. Fuck bombs. Fuck bombs so hard.

\--------------------

Life in the city was worse than people thought, and young as he was, Vincent knew it. He would often go out with his older brother and watch him sell his prescription doses of Happy Pills on the street to rogue dealers. For as controlling and strict as Better Living was, Vincent thought the people there weren't very good at their jobs.

It was the week after Vincent’s 8th birthday, and his brother had offered to take him out to see something really cool, with a word in between that Vincent wasn't allowed to say. Nevertheless, he was very excited. Vincent knew that his brother loved him very much, even if he didn't always take him everywhere with him. That was okay, because they were going together now.

“Come on, right through here,” Vincent held onto his brother’s hand tightly. It was dark, and he didn't exactly know the time, but he figured that it was way past his bedtime, considering that he was yawning a lot, now. Vincent missed his stuffed bear, Einstein, but his brother’s hand on his back was reassuring enough for him to step further into the narrow tunnel. Vincent thought the little tunnel stunk bad, but he could hear voices up ahead, and his brother was looking more and more excited by the minute.

They finally came to a large space that Vincent was sure would look even larger if it weren't full of people. This room was different from any other room he’d ever been in before, and that was thanks to the people and their colorful clothes. Vincent quickly noticed that he was the only person in his issued white uniform, since colorful and expressive clothes were banned from the city. Vincent didn't even know where his brother had gotten his colorful getup from, but Vincent decided that he liked this room the best, even if it smelled.

Almost everyone was standing up, except for a few other people at the other end of the room, who were sitting up on some pipes that were suspended on the wall, a little bit off the ground. As his brother pushed their way to the front of the massive crowd, Vincent caught only bits and pieces of the things the people perched on the pipes were saying. Everyone else was listening to them, anyway.

“Tonight, we take back…they stole her, and we...get her back. Tonight is...we kill Better Living...we kill them all...the revolution!”

Everyone clapped and cheered, a deafening sound. As Vincent and his brother arrived at the front of the hulking crowd, he could finally put faces to the voices he was hearing.

There was one person standing up near the front with bright red hair, like the color of blood, Vincent thought. If he was honest, he couldn't tell if the person was a boy or a girl, but they seemed to be doing all of the talking, almost like a leader. The leader’s ambiguous gender confused and intrigued Vincent; he'd never ever come across the predicament of not being able to tell genders apart. Up in Battery City, girls had long hair, and it was law that boys were to keep their hair above their ears. This leader’s hair was just past their shoulders, and Vincent liked it.

Beside them, there was a man with long, stringy brown hair, and he had what looked like some kind of monster mask pushed haphazardly up onto his head. He was looking at the red-haired leader with wide eyes, grinning kind of dreamily. He was smoking a cigarette, something he'd seen his brother doing many times. Yuck, Vincent thought. The man with the monster mask made eye contact with Vincent and smiled at him, and Vincent smiled back, albeit wary. 

Next to Monster Mask Guy was a very skinny young man who was wearing lots of zebra-type stripes, like Vincent had learned about in school. He also held a helmet tightly in his left hand, and across the visor, it said “good luck”. Vincent didn't think that pattern looked very good with that yellow color, but he thought the helmet was nice. The man looked very young.

On the other side of Red Hair Person, there was a man with long, curly hair who held a helmet, too. His helmet just had a lightning bolt across the side.

He also noticed that almost everyone in the room had some kind of holster clipped to their belt, with what looked like a gun in each. Vincent had seen his brother and his respective friends dealing with these often, too, but he tensed up anyway.

His head was spinning. Why doesn't anyone in the city wear color? These people are. Why don't people carry guns around Battery City? Why doesn't anyone there talk like these people do?

The shouting had settled a bit since they’d arrived, and it seemed like this meeting (or whatever it was, Vincent felt confused) was coming to a close. The person with the red hair said a few more things, finished with something about always running, and then the crowd filtered forward in front of Vincent and his brother to try and talk to the red-haired speaker and their crew. Vincent’s brother told him that he really wanted to talk to them, that he really would not leave until he got to speak to those people. Vincent didn't understand why, but he'd wait to make his brother happy.

To Vincent, the wait seemed like days until the crowd had finally dispersed enough for them to be able to make their way to the front, but they finally made it. His older brother’s face lit up when he came face-to-face with the leader, their party behind them, and the leader shook his brother’s hand and they began to talk. For some reason, Vincent's brother told them about his messing around with guns and selling the Happy Pills instead of taking them, and Vincent hoped he wouldn't get in trouble. Interestingly enough, the group seemed impressed. Vincent’s brother put his hand on his shoulder and pushed him in front of himself, facing the group. Vincent swallowed hard.

“Guys, this is Vincent. He's my little brother, and he hasn't been taking his pills since he was 5, so about three years, now. I’d been explaining how bad they are for him, and he wanted to stop. He likes to draw lions now.” Vincent’s brother spoke freely, very excited. “That means that all the junk is out of his system.”

The red-haired person nodded and crouched down to Vincent's level. “Keep it up, kid,” he began, “and you'll be running this town someday. Learn from your big brother, here. You two will need each other, where you're going.” Red Hair Person smiled at him and patted his shoulder, and then someone came sprinting in through the same tiny smelly tunnel that Vincent and his brother had come through. The whole room went still...until someone yelled “Dracs!”, and then everyone panicked and scrambled.

Vincent wasn't exactly sure what a Drac was, but he knew that they were really dangerous, from what his brother had told him. Vincent looked up at his brother, who'd drawn his gun, and the group of four next to him, also holding theirs.

“We gotta get outta here, Party! We gotta get Grace,” the man with the big curly hair sounded distressed, and the red-haired person, apparently called Party, looked around frantically.

“Jet’s right, we gotta scram,” Party started to kick out a large pipe, because the room was mostly a dead end; a lot of escape routes were blocked off by the throngs of people. That was unfortunate. “Like, now.”

It took Party a minute to kick the pipe out, with a little help from Monster Mask Guy, but they finally managed. His brother tried to hoist him up into the open pipe, but Vincent was frozen in place. It was hard for him to process what was going on, and for some reason, he felt like he was trapped in a bubble. Vincent blinked hard and swallowed even harder. It was obvious that the team wasn't going to go until everyone was out of the room, and the rest of the people had found their own ways out already. They were the only six left.

For the first time, Monster Mask Guy spoke up, and he sounded more worried than the rest of them. 

“C’mon, kid! What, you don't speak English or somethin’?”

Vincent didn’t move.

“Vamos, kid!”

Something snapped in him, and with a boost from the guy in the ugly yellow zebra stripes, Vincent scrambled up into the pipe just as he saw the first glint of gunfire shoot out from the adjacent tunnel. The group started firing back, along with his brother. For a brief moment, watching from inside the pipe, Vincent felt proud that his brother was so brave. Vincent hoped that he would be as brave as his brother, someday.

For some reason, his brother fell down.

“Oh, fuck,” Vincent heard Party mumble. Their voice was shaky. Vincent suddenly knew why his brother cared so much for him. It seemed like no matter how loud Vincent screamed, he would never be heard over the sound of gunfire. “JACK!”

Party yelled over the relentless shots. “Kid! Hey, hey, wait, okay? We’ll get you out of here, if we can just get to the Trans Am-”

Party’s body jerked to the left, away from Vincent, and they clutched their shoulder and slumped against the wall. “Alright, rats! You're gonna get fuckin’ dusted tonight!”

Vincent didn't know why he did it, but he turned around and scrambled through the pipe as fast as he could. He didn't register when he banged his head, or skinned his knees, but he did register the puke in the pipe in front of him as his own. 

Vincent never saw those four men again in his life, apart from when their mugshots were posted on the main stretch billboard the following day. Each of their huge faces were covered with a huge red X, and the only word below the four people read EXTERMINATED.

\--------------------

Vaya managed to get out of the raid on their bike, but not without a shot in the leg. It wasn't deep; it had just clipped their calf. They had some first aid supplies that they'd traded up a few weeks back for a huge piece of tarp, and the wound looked worse than it really was, so they weren't worried.

Vaya drove until they couldn't see the Dracs anymore, and then drove some more; they had no clue why the Dracs hadn't followed them. Maybe because Vaya was just one meaningless runner.

Vaya stopped at what looked to be an old apartment complex. Or hotel. Or prison. Considering the force of the Hydrogen Bomb that BLI had dropped on Battery City, it was a pure miracle that there were any remnants of buildings still standing; not counting the old gas stations that the original Rebels had rebuilt right after the bombing ten years ago, and the radio station. If there were any other buildings, they were all in the last few zones, where the blast didn't quite reach. Vaya guessed this to be Zone 8 or 9. They were running low on gas and food, so they thought it in their best interest to post up in the abandoned complex for a night or two, just to get healed up.

Vaya knew they were giving their all, trying to survive every day, but for what? Vaya didn't know. Life was confusing. The zones were like a rat maze, and they didn't think they'd ever know. The thoughts started back when Vaya first started feeling...weird. But Vaya didn't like to think about that.

Instead, they settled on finishing their fucking dog food in fucking peace.

Vaya picked their way through brick and twisted metal and looked at their options. There looked to be a few floors still standing, but the stairs had been halfway blown out. They figured they could probably hoist themselves up there to explore a little, but they knew it wasn't safe for them to stay in the upper levels overnight. There were any number of things that could happen.

There was a little section of the roof that was still sheltering the first level that looked particularly inviting, so Vaya clambered over to the corner and set up camp.

Vaya had a distinct, deliberate collection. They were adamant about traveling relatively light. They even made a list of all the things they kept, and it read:

1 blanket  
1 rope  
1 first aid kit (bandages, antibiotic salve, some kinda rash cream, band-aids, aspirin, smelling salts, a syringe and some antibiotic refills)  
1 bottle of water (refillable)  
As much food as able to carry  
½ book of matches  
1 pencil  
1 list  
1 knife  
1 cloth rag  
1 pair of goggles (for sandstorms)  
As much dead wood as possible (for fire)

And, of course, the ray gun they always kept in the holster at their belt. Vaya felt vaguely proud of their shabby setup.

Vaya got a small fire started and rigged up some twisted metal to act as a cooker for the Power Pup to sit on above the fire. If they were gonna eat fuckin’ dog food, they were gonna eat it hot, if only to keep some sanity.

The sun was setting, and things were getting eerie. Vaya hated the dark, but mostly the things in them. In the inner zones, the coyotes had never bothered to repopulate after the Hydrogen Bomb’s devastation, but they swarmed and thrived in the outer zones, and Vaya knew it. Vaya was poking at the wound in their calf when they heard a harsh crack from somewhere in the distant dark. They froze.

“Who's there?”

From all the horror movies they'd watched, Vaya knew that was the stupidest line. It was an accident, a blurted, worn-out phrase that could possibly guarantee Vaya’s death. Fuck.

“AAAAH!”

A cry ripped through the dark as a brick hit the wall behind them and fell next to Vaya’s hand. Vaya thought the throw was particularly weak.

They spotted someone hanging upside down from the blown-out stairwell, on the next level. The darkness made it impossible to make out who it was, just a silhouette, but they were hanging practically limp.

“What the fuck,” Vaya growled, pulling their gun from their holster and locking it on the person hanging from the ceiling. Silence.

“I could blow your fucking face off right now, so I suggest you tell me who the fuck you are.”

“Wow. Heavy on the expletives, huh?” The person wheezed so much that the sarcasm was barely recognizable.

Vaya registered that the person was weak, and considering that their weapon of choice was a brick, they were probably desperate. Even so, Vaya didn't lower their gun.

“A friend. An enemy. I'm whoever you decide I am.”

Vaya grabbed a nearby stick, taking their eyes off the silhouette for just a second, and poked it into the fire. They carried the makeshift torch over to the stairwell, and what Vaya saw made them sad.

The person was dangling limply from the hole in the ceiling, eyes just barely held open. They had a huge gash in their left shoulder, trailing down to their chest. It looked like a knife wound, but Vaya knew they'd have to get closer to know for sure. They had long blue hair. The person’s knuckles were bloody, like the color of the tassels on the shoulders of their jacket. Their face was dirty, but then again, so was Vaya’s.

“I can't get back up, if that's what you’re wondering.”

Vaya raised an eyebrow and lowered their gun. They planted a foot on one of the crumbled stair steps and put a little pressure on it, making sure it was stable. Vaya started to climb.

“What are you doing? Please don't kill me,” the person sounded distressed and exhausted.

“I'm not going to kill you,” Vaya grunted, hoisting themselves up onto the next closest stair. “I'm going to help you.”

The person sniffed. “Oh.”

Vaya made it to the opening in the ceiling, where the next floor began, and grabbed the person by the waist. The person gasped in pain and grunted as Vaya pulled them up onto the second floor. The person lay there, breathing shallowly.

“The name’s Vaya. What do they call you?”

“I don’t got anybody to call me anything. I'm Vamos.”

“Vamos. Isn't that Spanish or somethin’?” Vaya leaned over Vamos to get a closer look at the cut on their shoulder. “Take off your jacket.”

“Fuck if I know,” Vamos groaned, shrugging off their leathers. “They didn't teach us that shit in school.”

“Right,” Vaya breathed distractedly. “How long ago d’ya get this wicked slash?”

“I’unno. Few days,” Vamos shrugged noncommittally. They were picking at a chip of wood on the floor next to them.

“‘S’infected.” Vaya poked the bright red skin around Vamos’ wound and watched them flinch. “I got a first aid kit in my bag,” Vaya dug around in the bag and Vamos’ eyes went wide.

“First aid? Where'd you get that?” Their voice sounded more accusing than questioning.

Vaya shrugged. “Picked it up from another runner. Traded it for some tarp.”

“Oh.”

There was silence.

Until, of course, Vaya got the syringe out of the case and told Vamos to take off their belt and bite it.

“Nuh uh. No way,” Vamos started to shake. “No needles.”

“Yes way. Topical antibiotics do not reach the source of the infection. This is going in you,” Vaya flicked the syringe and Vamos’ breath came quicker.

“Can I hold your hand?”

It was more of a blurted question; it was obvious that Vamos was embarrassed and scared, and they did not mean to say that, fuck.

“Okay.”

Vamos’ eyes widened in genuine surprise. Vaya looped their fingers in Vamos’ and took note of Vamos’ eyes clamped shut and eyebrows knit together before Vaya put the needle into their left arm. Vaya was feeling a little queasy themselves, and that feeling was only amplified when they felt Vamos squeeze. As Vaya took the needle out, Vamos breathed out, shaky and harsh.

“There you go. All done.”

Vamos gasped, not done shaking. “What was that?”

Vaya squinted and read the little plastic box that the syringe refills came in. “Rocephin. Ceftriaxone sodium. Used to treat bacterial infections. You know it as an antibiotic drug.”

“Oh,” Vamos whispered. “Thank you.”

“Don't sweat it. And don't wrap that wound just yet. Give it a minute to breathe, yknow?” Vaya packed the first aid kit back up and looked around the floor. Vamos had obviously tried to set up camp, much like Vaya, but it didn't look like they had very many supplies. There were some pieces of wood piled up a few feet away, like Vamos was trying to start a fire. Grabbing the torch, Vaya crawled over to the wood pile and touched it. Cold and wet.

“Uh, yeah. I couldn't start a fire.” Vamos rubbed the back of their neck.

“Wet wood doesn't burn.” Vaya sounded distant.

Vamos had a bag of their own, apparently, because there was a leather one across the room. It was similar to Vaya’s messenger bag, and it was painfully obvious that Vamos was a drifter, too. Vamos followed Vaya’s eyes and stood up.

“Come back down with me.” Vaya said what they had been wanting to say for the past five minutes, panicked that Vamos would try to leave. It was dangerous out, and Vaya felt very alone and scared in the dark; no matter how many dark nights they'd already spent alone, it never got any more inviting.

“You don’t even know me,” Vamos narrowed their eyes. “I could be a murderer.”

Vaya snorted. “Everyone is a murderer. Come eat some food.”  
Much to Vaya’s delight, Vamos looked relieved as they nodded. “All my stuff is in here.” Vamos went over and grabbed their bag. They looked apprehensive when they glanced back at the gaping hole in the floor.

“I can't move my shoulder too great, ‘cause of the cut, and-”

“It's okay. I'll help you.” Vaya cut Vamos off. Vamos eyed Vaya warily, but walked over anyway.

Vaya dropped their bag down the hole and lowered themselves down after it. “Throw me your bag and I'll help you down. It's easier that way.” Vaya called.

Vamos snorted, eyebrows raised. “You gotta be kiddin’ me! I just met you, and now I'm entrusting to you all of my worldly possessions?”

“Well, you just held my hand, so it's not an entirely unreasonable request.”

Vamos rolled their eyes and tossed their bag down the hole to Vaya. They started to lower themselves when their left elbow gave out, and they came crashing into the jagged stair steps directly below.

“Fuck, Vamos!” Vaya wasn't close enough to break their fall, and Vamos coughed.

“I'm good!” Vamos croaked. “I'm good, it's fine. Just, like, a broken rib or somethin’.”

“Seriously?” Vaya ran a hand through their hair nervously. “Fuck, what are we gonna-”

“No, not seriously! Just fuckin’ with ya’. I'm shiny.” Vamos laughed.

“Oh, awesome.” Vaya deadpanned, tossing Vamos their bag as they pushed themselves up off the crumbled stairs.

As they walked into the light, Vaya thought Vamos looked tall. “I have some dog food. Eat.” Vaya shoved the can into Vamos’ dusty hands as they took their original position, sitting against the wall.

Vamos only made a little bit of a grossed-out face. “Thanks,” They said quietly, sitting down next to Vaya and shoveling liquidized chicken into their mouth. “Y’know. For everything. That infection probably coulda killed me, eventually.”

“Don't sweat it.” Vaya yawned. “So, like, how long you been on your own?”

“Ever since I started runnin’.” Vamos mumbled around their mouthful of dog food. “Haven't found anybody to run with that didn't want to kill me. Or, y’know, who didn't have some collateral to ensure that I wouldn't kill them. Shit like that. So, I've always been on my own, regardless of who I was with.”

Vaya swallowed and it sounded deafening. “Oh.”

“Yeah, it's whatever.” Vamos blinked. “How ‘bout you? Found yourself a life partner out here in paradise?”

“No. Always been by myself.” Vaya sounded small, and they didn't like that. They cleared their throat. “I get to the market sling sometimes, but I never follow them. They never stay in one place for long.”

“Yeah, heard about that group. Never been. Fuckin’ Dracs, always around.” Vamos sounded angry. Vaya didn't like it.

“Can I ask you something?”

Vamos looked over at Vaya, making solid eye contact for the first time since Vaya had to stick them with the needle.

“What?”

“It's just- I mean, I couldn't…” Vaya trailed off, frustrated. “I don't wanna be mean or whatever. I just...I can't tell if you're a chick or a dude, and I haven't been able to place it.”

Vamos looked straight ahead, shifting uncomfortably. “Why do I have to be either?”

That puzzled Vaya. “Well, I guess you don't. But if you're not a boy, and you're not a girl, then what are you?”

“I'm just Vamos.”

Silence. Vaya looked down at their lap. “I like that.”

Vamos looked up. “Hm?”

“I like that. I'm just Vaya. I don't think I'm a boy or a girl, either.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“I'm sorry.” Vaya blurted.

“What for?”

“Asking. Making shit weird. I dunno.” Vaya hunched their shoulders.

“It's okay,” Vamos smiled. “I'm glad you asked.”

\--------------------

Vamos guessed it must’ve been winter, because the morning brought cold.

They woke up to Vaya curled up into their side, their pink hair dusty. They weren’t surprised; the desert gets lonely, and human contact sometimes makes the difference between life and death. The night before, Vamos had been surprised to see Vaya in the first place; they thought they were far out enough that they were alone.

Vamos had a pretty great view of the sunrise from where they were sitting. The sun burned bright and stopped just short of their feet. The evening before, when Vamos was bumbling in, they thought they'd seen something that looked suspiciously like a water pump, but they’d been too exhausted and sick to scope it out. No time like the present, Vamos thought.

They gently moved Vaya’s head from their side to rest on their own leather bag, and Vamos pushed themselves to their feet and dusted off their pants. They took their bag with them, just in case Vaya tried to swipe it and split. They didn't seem like that type of person, but Vamos had learned the hard way that it was always better to be safe rather than sorry.

Winding their way around to the back of the complex, Vamos discovered that there was a water pump, much to their delight. “Yes!” they whispered, victorious. They hadn't had the opportunity to rinse off in weeks, and they were beginning to gag at the smell of themselves. Vamos reeked, and they knew it. They did a happy little jig before they set their bag on the ground, stripped down to their boxers, and began beating the dust out of their clothes. Vamos folded their clothes neatly, set them on their bag, and started to pump.

Thankfully, since Vamos was already standing 90% naked in the middle of the desert, there was water in the pump. Vamos let the rusty brownish-yellow water filter out before splashing it onto themselves.

“Oh.”

Vamos spun around to see Vaya standing awkwardly a ways behind them, shifting from foot to foot and looking around with wide eyes, anywhere but at Vamos. “S-Sorry,” Vaya began nervously. “Sorry, I-”

“What are you supposed to do, knock?” Vamos snorted and nodded at the pump. “Come get clean, man.”

Vaya hesitated before walking over and following Vamos’ lead, stripping down to their boxers and...bandages? Vamos squinted. Vaya had their chest wrapped in ace bandages.

“You hurt?” Vamos asked, drenching their hair.

“What?”

“I asked if you were hurt,” Vamos gestured to the bandages around Vaya’s chest. Vaya turned bright red.

“Um, no, I’m not hurt.” Vaya did not elaborate.

“Uh, then why with the…?” Vamos’ eyebrows were raised so high they were nearly off their forehead, and Vaya thought they were going to throw up.

“I just don’t wanna have to deal with tits, alright?” Vaya huffed and kicked their boots off. They wouldn’t meet Vamos’ eyes.

“Oh.” Vamos swallowed, and it finally clicked. They felt like such a dick, fuck. “I’m real sorry, dude. I didn’t know.”

“Nah, s’cool, y’know?” Vaya left the bandages on. “Not a lot of people get it.”

“I get it.” Vamos shrugged and shook the water off like a dog. They beat the dust out of their clothes one last time, for good measure, then dressed. Vaya was right behind them.

“‘S for breakfast?” Vaya yawned and scratched their head. “I think I got some tuna or somethin’, lemme check-”

“Do you wanna run with me?”

Vaya was posed with the second blurted question from Vamos in 24 hours, and their brain hurt. They'd just woken up, and they'd have killed for a cup of coffee right then; a luxury that died with the old nation.

“O-Okay,” Vaya yawned again. Their brain was definitely shorting out. “Yeah. Okay.”

Again, Vamos looked relieved. Vamos waved their hand in the air, the mood a little lighter and less tense, now. “Such articulation. Such...grace.”

Vaya punched them in their non-injured shoulder and Vamos feigned hurt. “I'll have you know, I'm delicate, partner.”

“Yeah, right.” Vaya deadpanned. “You threw a brick at me not 18 hours ago! Then, you proceeded to take a needle in the arm, and then fall half a story onto jagged concrete stair steps. Such fragile royalty.”

Vamos snorted. “Save me some’a that tuna, will ya’?”

Vaya ate half and gave Vamos the can when they were done. Unsurprisingly and unceremoniously, Vamos began to immediately stuff their face.

“I gotta bike.”

Vamos looked up at Vaya, who was standing in front of them now. “You what?” Vamos asked around their tuna.

“I. Got. A . Bike,” Vaya spoke slowly, as if to a child. “Y’know? Like, a motorbike? That. Got it from my mom.”

Vamos stood up and stretched. “Cool beans. We takin’ that bad boy outta here, or what?”

“Well, kinda,” Vaya rubbed the side of their face thoughtfully. “I'm low on gas, so we gotta hit the inner zones to fill up. We should find some more food, too.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan!”

“Don't call me Stan.”

\--------------------

If Vamos did not shut the fuck up, Vaya was going to kick their teeth in.

“WOOOOHOOOOO! AH, HELL YEAH! GHOST RIDE THE WHIP, MOTHAFUCKA!”

Vamos was wearing a pair of stray sunglasses they'd found in their bag, and Vaya was rolling their eyes so hard that, if their eyes did happen to fall out, at least their goggles would catch them.

“You've never been on a motorcycle before, have you?” Vaya yelled over Vamos’ whooping.

“Nope! This is fuckin ACE!”

“Okay, Red Baron. Cool your jets.”

Even if they couldn't shut them up, Vaya could at least admire Vamos’ long blue hair flapping in the wind, anyway.

There was one gas station in particular, one in Zone 2. This gas station actually had gas, because not a lot of runners were willing to go as far in as Zone 2. Shit got dangerous in Zone 2, but Vaya didn't have a lot of vodka left to spare on their gas tank. Plus, they were particularly good at avoiding Dracs in the inner zones.

“Vamos. Vamos, seriously, you gotta shut up here. Okay?” Vaya slowed the bike to a gentle chug-chug-chug.

Vamos wiped their nose and took off the sunglasses. “Why? What zone are we in?”

“Two.”

“Two?! Jesus fuck, Vaya! You tryin’a get us ghosted?!” Vamos whisper-shouted, crouching low on the bike and looking around frantically. The horizon was flat for as far as the eye could see; absolutely no cover.

“No!” Vaya waved their hand. “Chill out, fuckin’ spaz! I got this.”

Vamos didn't look convinced, but Vaya decidedly didn't care.

“You just stay low,” Vaya whispered. “I'll do the rest.”

Vamos did what they were told; surprisingly, because Vaya got the vibe that Vamos was like an excited puppy.

“Get behind the bike.” Vaya said, cutting the engine and climbing off. “If anyone starts shooting-”

Vaya paused, because Vamos looked mortified. “-which they shouldn't, because there's a shift change right about this time of day-”

Vamos still didn't look convinced.

“Whatever. I'm fast. Just get low and stay low, alright? I'll be back in a snap.”

Vamos huffed out a sigh and watched Vaya go. They could see the gas station from where they were; just a blip on the horizon. Vamos realized why Vaya couldn't take the bike any further. The bike engine was loud, and there was no way the entire desert was deserted. No pun intended.

The minutes seemed like hours, because Vamos hadn't been this close to Bat City in years. They were fucking terrified of Dracs, which was a useless thing to be out in the zones. Vamos chewed on their nails until they cracked and peeled, and then chewed some more. They began to shake.

It felt like years before Vamos saw Vaya’s silhouette sizing up the horizon. Not being able to see their face, Vamos kept their hand on their gun until they could see the trademark pink hair bouncing.

“What’d I tell ya’?” Vaya grinned, arms outstretched. “Speedy Gonzales up in this motherfucker.”

Vaya uncapped a gas can - they must've picked it up at the station, Vamos guessed - and started to fill the tank.

“Nice job, QuickDraw,” Vamos rolled their eyes. “Now which way outta this fuckin’ death trap? I wanna save my skins for a more memorable occasion.”

“Ah, relax! We got time. Dracs out here don't even bother comin’ around, most of the time. They just figure that every runner is too scared to venture this far in.” Vaya sniffed and switched arms, and Vamos relaxed.

“See? Easy peasy lemon squeezy!” Vaya clapped their gloved hands together, producing dust. There was always so much fucking dust.

And just like that, easy peasy, a ray beam shot between their heads.

“Fuck!”

Vamos was on the back of the bike faster than the actual driver was, which was pretty impressive. The engine kicked on and they peeled out, away from the incoming gunfire.

“Shift change, huh?” Vamos smirked.

\--------------------

This was the second time in 24 hours that Vaya had been lucky enough to avoid a Drac tailing them and skinning them raw. Vaya had seen that shit in person, and it was not pretty. When they'd first seen that, Vaya decided that they would never go down without a fight.

For as quickly as they'd become partners, Vamos knew next to nothing about Vaya. Most people in the zones never asked. Vamos kind of picked up on the fact that Vaya was the strong and silent type.

Unfortunately for Vaya, Vamos was not.

“Where ya’ from?” The two were laying up on the side of a hill, watching the sunset. Vaya thought it was the cheesiest shit ever, but Vamos had suggested it, just like they had suggested they both play 20 fucking questions.

“What's your real name? There's no way it's actually Vaya!”

Vaya sighed and threw an arm over their face, a little annoyed. “Fuck you,‘it’s not Vaya.’ It is my real name.”

Vamos coughed and leaned over to spit in the dust away from Vaya. “My real name isn't Vamos,” they bit their lip, and suddenly, the air was quiet.

Vaya shrugged. They figured that Vamos would tell them their real name in due time, if they felt so compelled. Vaya didn't want to pry, unlike some people, but Vaya wasn't so sore about it. Not like Vamos looked.

Even as somber as they looked, Vamos continued. Somewhere in the back of their mind, Vaya vaguely registered that this was the first time they'd seen Vamos look almost sad.

“Somethin’...somethin’ happened, and I…”

Vamos didn't finish, and Vaya didn't make them.

“Here,” Vaya whispered, afraid to shatter the fragile quiet. “Have some water.”

Vamos took the bottle from Vaya’s hand and looked at them fondly. Vamos drank, then drank some more.

“Thanks, yo!” Vamos croaked loudly, obviously overcompensating for the tears glinting in their eyes, threatening to fall, smiling wide. “Well, we better get some shuteye, y’know?”

Vaya didn't say much else after that, but they did cover Vamos up with their only blanket, once they were asleep.

\---------------------

Vaya thought Vamos was fuckin’ weird.

Sometimes, Vaya would wake up in the middle of the night and hear Vamos humming or murmuring to themselves. There had only been one occasion on which Vamos had been talking loudly in the quiet night, and when that had happened, Vamos was sitting criss-cross applesauce about 100 yards away.

Vaya was convinced that it wasn't sleep-talking, because Vamos’ eyes were always wide and focused, usually shifting around near one spot, like they were thinking, hard. Vaya never made a big deal about it, just rolled over and went back to bed. It didn't happen particularly often, so Vaya wasn't worried. They just let them be.

Sometimes, Vamos would overshare and then recoil like they were a puppy who'd been scolded. They'd be lively and spirited one moment, gesticulating animatedly and talking fast about some random subject that had nothing to do with anything, and then they'd be silent the next. The most memorable occasion being when Vamos told Vaya about their cat they had as a kid.

“His name was Brahms. I took piano as a kid, and the name just kinda stuck,” Vaya was tinkering with the bike, and Vamos twirled the end of a scarf in their hand as they talked; it had been a particularly cold winter.

“Yeah, and he had, like, this really pretty coat. Beautiful, really. He was a tiger cat! Really energetic. Mom wouldn't let me keep him in the house, but I snuck him into my room on cold nights.” Vamos smiled fondly at their hands, and Vaya's chest felt fuzzy.

“Yeah, he was great. He would always lick your hand until you’d pet him, and he only drank water out of a glass, not a bowl. He wouldn't play with toy mice, but laser pointers drove him wild. He always slept on my chest at night, and I'd wake up with his face in my neck. I really loved him.”

Vamos had been talking a million miles a minute, but they'd slowed down a little toward the end, almost like they were stuck in the memory.

“What happened?” Vaya wiped the oil off a pipe and locked it back in place.

“Huh?” Vamos snapped back to earth.

“Brahms. What happened to him? He sounded like a cool dude.”

Vamos didn't meet Vaya's eyes. “He, uh…Brahms peed on the expensive Indian carpet, and my dad kinda...snapped?” Vamos hesitated, and their voice sounded thick.

Vaya stopped puttering around with the cogs and look at Vamos, who was still avoiding Vaya's eyes. “Snapped?”

“He, uh...he threw Brahms outside a little too hard, and Brahms hit the wall. He, uh, was paralyzed. Couldn't eat or walk. I tried to take care of him, I did, but my dad-”

Vamos was tense, shoulders hitched up around their ears. Their face was red and their eyes glistened with what obviously should have been coming, but never did. Vamos sniffed and Vaya didn't know anything anymore.

“Hey, hey, Vamos, it's okay. Brahms loved you, and he knew you loved him.” Vaya moved closer and put an arm around Vamos’ shoulder. “He's in kitty heaven right now, eating all the tuna and catnip he wants! He's livin’ it up, right now!”

Vamos chuckled a little, and some of the painful awkwardness was relieved.

Vamos sniffed hard and rested their chin on their fist. “And after that, I kept wondering, y’know. When will I end up like Brahms?”

Vaya was wary. “What are you talking about?”

“I dunno, nothing. Sometimes, I used to wish that what happened to Brahms would've happened to me. I still do. I would've taken that punishment for him.”

“I know you would’ve.”

\--------------------

When Vamos was young, when he was still Vincent, his brother, Jack, had taught him to read Roman numerals. There was a huge clock at the end of the upstairs hallway that never seemed to move while Vincent watched it, but as soon as he turned away, then back again, the minute hand would be in a different position. He'd always thought that clock was sneaky.

“That’s one,” Jack said, pointing to the one. “That's two, three, and four-”

“Why isn't five marked as just five tally marks?” Vincent blurted, cutting Jack off.

“I dunno, Vin.” Jack sounded distant. “But hey, check this out!” Jack pointed to the lines that Vincent thought meant four.

“See this? It's wrong.”

Vincent didn't understand what he meant. How could that huge clock, which was used every day, be incorrect? It was hard for him to believe. “What?” Vincent tilted his head and squinted. “I don't get it.”

Jack walked to the big clock and put his finger on the four. “Okay, look. This isn't supposed to be IIII, it's supposed to be IV.”

“Why? How did the clock get it wrong?” Vincent’s head was spinning.

Jack laughed, but Vincent knew it wasn't a mean laugh. “The clock didn't get it wrong, silly! The people who made the clock got it wrong.”

Vincent hmmmed. “How do we fix it?”

Jack looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you said it was wrong. How to we change it to make it not wrong?”

Jack grinned thoughtfully for a second and bounded down the hallway, sliding into his own room at the end. After some rustling, he quickly ran back out with a tube of white-out and a plain black marker and handed it to Vincent. Jack lifted Vincent up so that he could reach the clock.

“Now all you have to do is paint over it, start fresh. Fix the wrong, make it right.”

The next day, they were both yelled at colorfully, but Vincent could've cared less. He'd fixed the wrong, made it right.

Vamos snorted when the memory was called to mind. Now, in the desert, was anything right?

\--------------------

 

As spring approached, life got easier in the zones.

The weather had evolved from a harsh, bitter cold into a warm glow, and Vaya loved it. Though seeing grass in the desert was rare, there was a stray patch or field here and there, albeit few and far-between. Sometimes, where there was grass, there were flowers, too.

Vaya was indifferent toward flowers; some boy had tried to surprise them with some flowers in their sophomore year of highschool, when Vaya had still been pimply and embarrassed. They were in a lunchroom full of students, and all eyes were on them. Vaya didn’t know what to say, so they didn’t say anything. The boy was mortified and the kids all laughed.

Even so, Vaya didn't protest when Vamos gave them a nice red flower for the first time.

Vaya didn't know shit about plants, and they weren't going to pretend they did. They didn't know what kind of flower this was, but it didn't matter. It was red, and there seemed to be more petals on the flower than there were stars in the sky. Or maybe that was just Vaya’s heart doing that weird swoopy thing again.

The next day, Vamos woke up with a pretty yellow flower tucked behind their ear, and Vaya sleeping soundly beside them.

Another thing Vaya noticed about Vamos; they had at least four maps in their bag, and they didn’t know how to read any of them. So, when Vaya was doing 95 through the desert and Vamos accidentally dropped a map, it wasn’t really much of a loss to Vaya, though Vamos cursed as it flapped away. Vaya thought it was pretty odd that Vamos even had a map in the first place. And, scary and vast as the zones may be, Vaya had never heard of a runner using a map to navigate them. The desert was generally just memorized (mostly only by the oldest runners, who’d fought and lived through the Analog Wars), or it was just wandered around aimlessly, runners watching for the dilapidated zone signs that had been erected by the original rebels a decade ago. NOW ENTERING: ZONE 6.

Vaya didn’t even know there were any zone maps still around; most had been confiscated and destroyed by BLI in the brutal aftermath of the Analog Wars. But they needed gas, so Vaya shook off Vamos’ maps and kept their hand twisted on the throttle.

\--------------------

There was a diner on the 7-8 Zone line, so Vamos suggested they post up there for the night. Vaya knew that this situation had to be handled carefully, but of course, Vamos wanted no part in that.

“Yo, go scope it out.” Vaya tinkered with the gas pump on the bike as they whisper-shouted. “Go real quiet-like, okay? You dunno who could be in there waiting to roast ya’.”

“Yeah, okay. That's cool,” Vamos trailed off, preoccupied with petting some overgrown vine plants that had busted through the diner’s kitchen window. Vamos thought nature could be so badass sometimes, fuck.

Wandering inside, Vamos found some more plants, much to their delight. There were some ones with flowers, thorns, and some without anything special at all, just leaves. Vamos was concerned with stroking the greenery when they saw a pair of black leather boots jump on the tile in front of them. Vamos vaguely registered that those were not Vaya's boots.

“Who the fuck are you?” The stranger demanded. Silence. “I’ll ghost you before you can say ‘black hole’!”

Vamos looked up and saw a man with snow-white hair and a mask on. The mask had a red X across the eyes, and Vamos stood up straight and wondered what they’d done wrong. The man pointed a gun at Vamos.

“What the fuck?” Vamos pulled their gun from their holster and watched the man cock his own gun. “Who are you?”

The guy only lowered his gun when he was holding his stomach laughing.

“Who am I?” The guy was developing this wheezing cough, and Vamos wondered where the guy found cigarettes. “Don't take another fucking step, or you'll be joining the dead circus.”

Vamos scrunched up their nose. “Dead circus?”

“Yes,” the guy put his hand on his forehead and sighed.

“That's not a good line. Scrap that, maybe.”

The guy looked at Vamos and pulled his finger tighter on the trigger. In the midst of the commotion, Vaya had rushed in to try and negotiate. They were good at that.

“Yo! Calm down, Jesus!” Vaya was glad they'd grabbed their gun off the back of the bike. “What the fuck is going on?”

The partners looked at each other. Vaya could tell that Vamos was scared out of their mind, they could see it in their eyes, but they also knew that Vamos liked to play it cool. Vaya thought that was dumb and reckless.

The white-haired man looked back and forth between Vaya and Vamos, then zeroed in on Vamos. “Well?!” He barked. “Tell her, big guy!”

Vaya’s finger reflexively tightened on the trigger. “Not a her.”

“Not a guy.”

Vamos echoed Vaya as if it had been planned, but they were both so shaky that the guy knew they couldn't have planned that.

The guy snorted. “What are you, then? A coupla crash queens?”

Vaya winced and watched Vamos intently. “Why does it fuckin’ matter?” Vamos growled, a near guttural sound. “Are you a crash queen?”

The guy looked surprised by this sudden turn of events. “No way, are you kiddin’ me?” He laughed. “I ain't no tranny.”

Vamos shot the guy without warning. They thought he had it coming.

The guy fell backwards and grunted as his ass skidded on the messy tile floor. He tightly pressed his dusty leather glove to his right bicep. “What the fuck.”

Vaya stared at Vamos in shock. Vamos was quiet.

“Your bitch ass is lucky that ray gun shots are so clean,” Vamos stood over the guy, spat at the ground next to him. “Cauterizes the wound before it even exits the other side.”

The guy on the floor looked up with something that resembled unsurety. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I was bein’ an idiot. Spewing off at the mouth. Please, man,” The stranger’s expression shifted into fear as Vamos creeped closer, gun trained on the guy’s forehead.

“Give me one reason I should let you live, fucker.”

The guy swallowed hard. Vaya grabbed at Vamos’ shoulder, but Vamos shook them off.

“Join my team.”

Vamos looked at the dude warily. “What?”

“Join my team. Run with us.”

“And what makes you think we want to run with you?” Vaya spoke up from the back.

“I dunno. We have plenty of food, water, gas, ammo, first aid and shit. We got lotsa guitars and shit, too. Even a home base, in a shitty little crack shack. It’s got electricity! Can you believe it? We got Fallout 4! Grand Theft Auto V, too. We used to have Super Mario, but Volume lost the-”

“Shut up. How are we supposed to believe you?” Vamos’ head was spinning. They knew that they and Vaya both could use the shelter, the safety. But what if it wasn’t so safe?

“I have a bike out back of here, if you want to follow me back to our home base. I’m gonna grab as much food as I can from this place, and then I’ll go. You can, too. If you want.”

Vamos backed off a little, and they and Vaya exchanged silent glances.

“My name’s Val, by the way. Val Velocity.” Val pushed himself up with his good arm and started rifling through the cabinets in the kitchen.

Vamos leaned over and whispered in Vaya’s ear. “I say we do it.”

“Are you crazy?” Vaya was incredulous. “We don’t know this guy, we don’t know if he’s safe! He could kill us! He just called you a tranny, and then you shot him! He could-”

“He could do a lot of things,” Vamos interjected quietly. “But we could also die out here at any point in time. We could get ghosted, scalped. Eaten by coyotes. My shoulder could take a turn for the worst. We could run out of water. Hell, we already are,” Vamos smirked half-heartedly.

Vaya took a deep, hesitant breath, but didn’t argue. They knew it, too.

“So, you guys coming or what? I gotta get this arm wrapped up.” Val was in the doorway, chewing on a granola bar, arms half-full of food. Vaya shifted from foot to foot.

“Yeah, we’ll come.” Vamos blurted, maybe a little too loudly. They read the fear on Vaya’s face. “But if you try anything funny, we’ll have our guns fuckin’ trained!” They added quickly.

“Okay, cool.” Val shrugged. “Just follow me. Our base isn’t too far, just on the edge of 8, a little north.”

Vaya and Vamos gathered up all the food they could carry, stuffed it in their bags, and climbed on the bike. They paralleled Val at a distance, just to be safe, but they could still see him clearly, his white hair flapping in his face. Soon, as promised, they came up to a shitty, dilapidated old house. The front siding was busted in several places, the tan paint was chipping, and there were dead flowers stuck in the sand in front of it. Vamos snorted.

Vaya stopped the bike about a hundred feet out from the house while Val pulled around behind it. Vaya heard music thumping from the house as they warily approached.

“There’s a shed around back, if you wanna put your bike up. It’s safer that way.” Val called from in front of the house.

Vaya bared teeth. “I’ll decide what’s safe or not, thank you very much.”

Val shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Don’t be so hostile, Vaya.” Vamos kept their voice low. “There are more people inside, from what I’ve heard, and they all have guns. Watch yourself.”

Vaya rolled their eyes. “Thanks, mom.”

They got to where Val was, and the music thumped even louder, now. Vamos could identify it as the Misfits. Nice.

Val banged on the front door frame and yelled in. “Turn that shit down, will you? Jesus Christ. We got guests!”

The music clicked off, and lots of murmuring was audible from the doorway.

“Guests?”

“Somebody get Vomit’s boxers off the kitchen door handle!”

“Oh, god.”

“What? Who?”

“I hope they’re hot!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Val looked at them with wide eyes and shrugged. “Sorry in advance for the mess.”

They were lead into the house, and they weren’t really surprised. Vamos thought it kinda reminded them of their old room. There were food wrappers everywhere, empty (and not empty) glasses, dirty clothes, boots, stray video game controllers, masks hanging off of random items. There was a broken lamp in the corner, and the room smelled like shitty beer. The shag carpet was a putrid, puke-yellow color, and it was ripped up in some places, revealing a wooden floor underneath. The ceiling in the far left corner was caving a little. Vaya and Vamos felt at home immediately.

Val gestured around the room. “Guys, meet-” He stopped in his tracks. “Ah, I’m sorry. Never caught your names.”

“I’m Vamos,” they sniffed. “This is Vaya.”

“Cool.” Val continued. “Guys, Meet Vaya and Vamos. Vaya and Vamos, meet the guys.” Val first gestured to a dark-skinned dude with a bright purple mohawk. “Volume.” The guy threw up a peace sign with two of the four fingers on that hand.

He pointed to a chick with orange hair and aviation goggles on her face. “That’s Virus,” Val grinned at her, and a smile revealed that she was missing one of her front teeth.

There was another guy passed out on the floor with a bottle of vodka in his hand. His entire head was shaved, except for a green tuft of hair that served to be bangs. His Adam’s apple made it obvious that he was a dude, but it was also obvious that he was wearing makeup. Vamos thought he looked pretty, and they made a mental note to ask the guy about borrowing his lipstick, whenever he woke up.

Val shrugged in the guy’s direction. “That’s Vomit. He likes to blow shit up.”

Val gestured to another guy with black hair, about the length of Val’s. The guy was fucking huge, buff as hell. “Yeah, that’s Vinyl. He’s the strong and silent type. Don’t take his oranges. He’ll fucking kill you.”

Vaya gulped.

“And, finally, we have Eddie.” Val smiled at a kid on the floor, sitting next to Vomit, though this kid was awake. He had regular blonde hair and glasses. His face was dirty.

“Yeah, he’s the newest member of the Vs. Found him in an abandoned building. Real skittish, real quiet. He likes to hang around Vomit.” Val leaned over and whispered to Vaya and Vamos when Eddie wasn't looking. “Think the kid’s got a crush.”

“Nice to meet you guys.” Vamos smiled at them all.

Vaya cleared their throat and nodded in Vomit’s direction, eyeing the bottle. “You got any more of that vodka?”

\-------------------

“So, what exactly is it that you do around here?” Vaya took another swig of vodka. It was late, and they and Volume were sitting on the couch. Vamos had gone into the back to sleep, as had everyone else, except Virus. She was still sitting on the couch in front of them, but she was absent in a different way as she tinkered around with a wristwatch, constantly taking it apart and putting it back together. Vomit was still passed out on the floor from that afternoon.

“Well, I guess we just hang around.” Volume said thoughtfully. “But it’s not like we’re just waiting to die; that’s not the plan.”

“What is the plan?”

Volume looked over his shoulder, into the kitchen, and then back at Vaya. “Well, I dunno if Val has told you, but I trust you. You’re a cool cat, so I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Vaya was getting a bit fidgety.

“Well, we do have a plan. Our plan is to-”

Volume was cut off by Val sprinting out from the back and pulling on his boots.

“EVERYBODY UP!” He screamed. Vaya was going to puke, they were so fucking smashed.

“Wha?” Vaya slurred nervously.

Volume’s eyes widened as he launched himself from the couch and dropped to his knees. He shuffled up to the window and peeked out the curtains. Sure enough, there were headlights in the distance. LED headlights. Approaching quickly.

Vamos came bounding out from the back, followed by the others. They looked around and spotted Vaya on the couch. Vamos ran to them. “Vaya? C’mon, get up, Vaya! There are pigs!”

“You don’t know that!” Volume shouted.

“Don’t be so fuckin’ naive,” Val’s tone was icy as he pulled his dusty jacket on. “Tommy Chow Mein rang the house, gave me a heads up. He said he wasn’t sure, but we gotta be ready for anything, kapeesh?”

Everyone seemed to nod simultaneously, and there was a lot of commotion as everybody tried to pull on their clothes. “Don’t forget your guns,” Val reminded them gravely.

Vaya had never taken anything off in the first place, so they had a little extra time to process what was going on. “Look, Vaya,” Vamos whispered to them, sitting down to pull on their own boots. “If anything happens, you and I jam together. You got that?”

Vaya nodded dumbly, still discombobulated from all the commotion. “T’geth’r,” They slurred.

Val kicked open the front door (which seemed pretty extra to Vaya, but whatever) and led the team out into the dusty night. There was a steep sand bank in front of the house, about three or four feet tall, which seemed to act as a sort of barrier or fort, in case there was an incoming attack, and everyone flocked to post up behind it. Vaya and Vamos watched and followed suit.

“Don’t let them take you alive!” Val screamed over the spitting motorbike tires. “You’ll regret it! Even if that means dishonorably discharging yourself, never let them take you alive!”

Vaya leaned over to puke through their nose into the dust. They coughed and spluttered as Val screamed over the industrialized tires.

“All hands on deck, fuckers! We got a van full of dracs!”

Vaya struggled to their knees and looked around, dazed. They were totally seeing double. Fuck. Vaya knew that fighting like this would be fucked, not to mention a real buzzkill, but something in them wanted to fight for the Vs. Vaya had no fuckin’ clue why, but they did.

Vaya pulled themselves up against the hard-packed sand bank and flipped the safety off on their gun.

“Safety setting is for pussies,” Vamos sneered. Vaya snorted and shot a snot rocket at Vamos. Vaya knew they were a pussy, but they didn’t give a fuck. Vaya did give a fuck about Vamos, though, and they were currently being shot at from the moving van.

“Ah, fuck!” Vamos fell backwards and covered their head with their arms, and Vaya immediately felt empowered as they saw the multicolored light from the ray gun blasts next to them firing at the BLI van. Vaya fired back, too.

The van stopped about 100 feet away from the bank, and Vaya couldn’t count the exact number of pigs, but there were a lot. There were more Dracs than there were Vs, and even seeing double, Vaya knew that this could very quickly take a turn for the worst.

“Les’ barbecue these fuckers!” Vaya slurred, hitting one right in the mask. “Hell yeah!”

As they were riding high, Vaya had turned around to grab an extra battery pack from their belt and reload when they felt a sharp zzzz in their back. They dropped to the ground, and they registered only that the pain was blinding; white light in the desert night. Fuck. Vaya laughed and coughed, wheezed until blood sprayed out into the dirt. If Vaya tilted their head a little to the left, they could make out the shape of a dog. Blood dog. Blog. Vaya snorted. They pushed themselves back up against the barrier and finished changing their battery pack.

“You good?” Vamos clapped Vaya on the back while they coughed out a little more blood.

“‘M good,” Vaya choked, spitting into the dust. Vaya looked over at the rest of the gang and noticed that Volume was watching them, concerned. Vaya nodded, and Volume trained their eyes back on the van.

“This is getting fuckin’ old.”

A gravelly voice broke through the gunfire, a voice that Vaya didn’t recognize. Vaya looked over and registered that this was the first time they’d heard Vomit speak since they’d arrived.

Vomit hopped over the bank and up onto the higher ground, and Eddie flinched hard.

“Ain’t no party like a draculoid party, ‘cause a draculoid party don’t stop!” Vomit laughed maniacally and ducked to avoid incoming gunfire.

“Be careful!” Eddie called, voice barely audible over the gunfire. Vomit turned his head and grinned, sticking his tongue out and biting it.

“He always fuckin’ does this, the lunatic,” Val sighed, shrugging and firing again, covering Vomit’s ass. “He’s probably still half-baked. He probably won’t die. Hopefully. He’s one hell of a shot, we could stand to keep him around here.”

Before they could register what was even going on, Vaya saw Vomit put something to his mouth, bite, and then chuck it at the van. Val fell stomach-first into the dirt and covered his head with his hands. “HIT THE DECK!” Vomit shouted. Vaya hit the deck.

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

There was a huge BOOM, and then there was nothing. Vaya’s ears were still ringing by the time the dust had cleared, and Vomit was lying in the dirt in front of them, eyes bruised and nose bloody.

“Ah, fuck!” Vomit laughed, jumping up in the air. “That was totally worth fuckin’ up my mascara!”

Vaya and Vamos peered over the wall and saw what looked to be about a dozen slumped corpses, scattered all around. Vaya even thought they saw a fucking disembodied head. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” Vamos breathed.

Vomit and Virus high-fived, her aviation goggles slipping down her nose and around her neck with the force of it.

“Fuckin’ sick, my guy,” Virus laughed madly. “You broke ya’ fuckin’ nose!”

Vomit bowed. “Why, thank you.” Eddie sighed.

Val coughed and spit blood in the dirt, black and shiny in the darkness. The sun had been down for hours.

“Me and Vinyl will deal with the skinsuits. You guys catch some zees.” Val’s voice was gruff when he spoke.

The air had a slight chill to it. All the lights were off in the house as they filed back inside; nobody had bothered with turning them on in the first place. The dark desert had an eerie feel to it, and reality was altered. It scared the shit out of Vaya, but they hadn’t felt so safe in years.

 

\--------------------

 

As they soon learned, The Plan wasn’t spoken about freely; not when Vaya and Vamos were around, anyway.

Obviously, as any good partner would, Vaya had told Vamos about their conversation with Volume, the one they had right before the raid. It was also pretty obvious that Val didn’t seem too keen on the idea of the two of them knowing. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust them, he was just...cautious. If he didn’t trust them, he wouldn’t have invited them to run with him.

So, Vaya and Vamos played along. They helped with the daily sand dustings, dug pits in the hard-packed ground for bodies, fixed the fuse box (on the rare occasion that the electricity kicked on), and did their part to hold down the fort. Vaya knew that this was a pretty sweet deal, running with the Vs, and they weren’t about to give it up anytime soon. So, when it came to “crunch time” in accordance to The Plan, Vaya kept their head down, and encouraged Vamos to do the same.

“Don’t you want to know what the fuck is going on?” Vamos whispered harshly. The moonlight was unusually bright on this night, and Vaya tried to remember whether this was called a Full Moon or a New Moon. It looked beautiful.

“I’m just as curious as the next guy, okay? Believe me,” Vaya wiped their forehead with their bandana. “I just don’t want to push our luck. If they want us to know, they’ll tell us.”

Vaya took a long drag from their cigarette and swung their feet over the cliff ledge. “I like it here,” they said, swallowing hard. “I like the crack shack.”

Vamos leaned their forehead against Vaya’s shoulder. “Me too.”

For a second, there was only the deafening sound of the wind in their wet ears.

“Why did you help me, Vaya?”

They looked down at Vamos. Vamos looked at the 100-yard drop in front of them.

“Why did you accept it?”

Just like feelings, Vamos thought about how breathing in enough sand can make you really fucking sick.

\--------------------

In the following weeks, the raids only got more and more frequent. They went from once a month to once a week, some Dracs were replaced with Scarecrows, and Vaya got the sense that Val was about to tear his goddamn hair out. The house had so many raygun holes in it that they’d long since stopped trying to patch them, and Tommy Chow Mein hadn’t even had the time to warn any of them since that first night that Vaya and Vamos were at the shack. Everyone slept with their boots on, and Vamos hadn’t washed in a month.

One particularly hot day, while Vinyl, Vaya, Vamos, Val and Vomit were lugging TVs through the desert, Vamos dropped their TV set in the sand hard and pushed their hair out of their face haphazardly.

“Why are we doing this?” Vamos spat, boots planted firmly on the earth. They coughed, a wet, hacking sound, into their bandana. “Why are we dragging TV sets through the fuckin’ desert?”

Val set down his TV and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

 

“Vamos, cool it,” Vaya warned, stepping closer to them.

“Oh, fuck that zen bullshit, Vaya!” Vamos laughed and threw out their arms. “Don’t you wanna know too?”

“I don’t follow,” Val said lowly.

“No shit,” Vamos snorted. “Why the fuck are we doin’ your dirty work? We keep hearin’ shit about this Plan, or whatever, and we still don’t even know what it is!”

Val stomped all the way up into Vamos’ face, chest-to-chest. Their harsh breath was loud, but Vamos held their own.

“You wanna fucking know?”

“Ain’t that what I just said, assbag? Need me to fuckin’ spell it out for you on the fridge in magnet letters?”

Val spit at the ground next to Vamos. “You’re about as tough as my gramma’s pinkie toe, sweet cheeks.”

Vamos shoved Val hard, and he fell on his ass. “I ain’t fuckin’ sweet.”

Val shoved up off the ground and launched himself at Vamos, landing on them and knocking them into the dirt.

Vinyl and Vaya were shouting and grabbing at Val as he and Vamos kicked and lashed at each other in the sand. Vinyl and Vaya hooked Val under the shoulders and hauled him off Vamos, who was smiling, blood in their teeth and on their collar. Val spat a thick mixture of blood and saliva onto the ground before sitting on his TV set.

Vomit punched Val in the shoulder. “Fuckin’ cool it, man, Jesus H. Christ.” Vomit hauled Vamos to their feet and slapped them on the back.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Val shook his head and wiped the blood from his nose. “I’m up to my fuckin’ ears in shit, tryin’a keep everyone safe. I didn’t mean to jump on you, man.”

Vamos snorted and wiped their hands on their jeans.

“Okay, whatever,” Val sighed. “Anyway, lemme tell you guys about Destroya.”

“De what?” Vaya squinted.

“Destroya,” Val repeated. “He’s a God. He needs spare parts.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in God?”

“He’s our God,” Vomit pointed out. “He’s gonna save us all.”

Vamos glanced at Vaya, and they wore the same wide-eyed expression.

Val rolled his eyes. “So, back during the Analog Wars, Better Living Industries created Destroya as a megabot. He was designed to attack and kill mass amounts of killjoys, effectively aiding the totalitarian control of BLI and wiping out all runners for good.”

“But,” Vomit interrupted. “There was a flaw in his system. Some people say he was hacked by a killjoy, effectively reprogramming his system so that he recognized only Dracs and Scarecrows as his target,” Vomit lowered his voice to a whisper. “But some people believe his spirit was inherently good. He ended up wiping out over half of the registered BLI personnel, including Korse.”

Vaya and Vamos looked at each other with wild eyes. Korse, as in the deadliest fucking Scarecrow in history.

“Destroya has since been captured by BLI, half-dismantled and abandoned somewhere in the outer Zones,” Vinyl huffed. “Maybe even in the no-zones. Nobody’s seen him since.”

“Right,” Vamos said. “So, this...Destroya...is gonna save the world?”

Vomit nodded.

“And how exactly is he gonna do that?”

Val wore a toothy grin. “I guess we’ll find out.”

\--------------------

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 comin soon >:^))


End file.
